


Be Here Now

by texadian



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texadian/pseuds/texadian
Summary: It's been months since Ladybug and Chat Noir last stepped out into the Parisian night together. Now, in their first year of university, the last thing they expected was a call from Master Fu. Despite the complete absence of akuma attacks, the duo learns that remaining apart for too long has its consequences.How will their separate lives adjust to this new intermingling? What happened during their last year of Lycée that left them so distant? And how could they have ever thought that staying apart would heal what was broken?- University AU with some season 2/3 divergence -
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. 11 Months Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Merci ^-^

Adrien disliked, nay, he loathed accompanying his father to fashion shows. There was little time to enjoy the city they were visiting and so much more time than necessary spent smiling and nodding along beside his father; he was M. Agreste’s most prized accessory. However, on that humid night in August, as Adrien sat across from his father at some charity dinner for disadvantaged animals, he learned there was something he loathed far more.

One of the waiters dressed in black slacks and a pink dress shirt walked up to them carrying not their 2nd course, but a note. The man leaned down discreetly beside his father and held out the note, creased in half, between his index and ring finger like an actor holding a cigarette in an old 1960s film.

Gabriel, as poised as always, thanked the waiter while still holding eye contact with the older gentleman he was discoursing with currently. It was not until the man paused to take a sip of his soup, that Adrien’s father unfolded the note and read.

“I never was fond of green soups,” the gentleman across from Gabriel said with a low chuckle.

Gabriel, to Adrien’s delight, was no longer listening to the older gentleman. Instead he dropped his spoon on the table, clattering against the other untouched silverware, and diverted his gaze to his son.

“Adrien,” his father said in a hushed tone.

He stood up, serviette falling to the floor, and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. This lack of manners was even more alarming than the last.

“We are leaving.”

Adrien conceded that he should have been excited by this turn of events, but it was all wrong. He thought twice about asking why and instead followed his father, already headed towards the banquet hall doors.

“Mein Auto, bitte,” his father said to the Valet when they had reached the entrance.

The man obliged with a curt nod of his head as Gabriel started tapping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His suit for the evening was dark blue with a striking emerald tie. Judging by the paling nature of his face, it appeared the tie was cutting off circulation.

During the car ride back to their hotel, the darkening Berlin sky seemed to foretell what was to come. Nathalie sat in the passenger’s seat speaking quietly to the driver. She tapped away at the tablet in her hands, nails clicking as they danced across the screen.

Gabriel remained quiet and stoic until they were back in the car, luggage piled into the trunk, and on their way to the airport.

“There’s been an incident back home.” He hung onto the last word like he wanted to say more, but nothing else came.

Adrien looked down at his grey suit. The jacket was unbuttoned and the bow tie he had been wearing before was tucked away in his laptop bag. His father had not changed out of his suit either, but remained composed, shoulders back, with not a single piece of clothing out of place.

“We are scheduled to fly out in twenty minutes if they do not dally,” he continued. “They always seemed to dally, though.”

“Is everyone okay?” Adrien asked, feeling stupid the moment the question let his lips.

Of course, everyone was okay. Everyone his father cared about was in that car. Nearly everyone Adrien cared about was not though. They were back home in Paris. He dared to take out his cell phone, running low on charge, to see if there was perhaps an akuma attack, but this incident his father spoke of was surely not that. 

Unlike every other time they had flown to an event, Gabriel requested Adrien sit at the front of the plane with him instead of Nathalie. He gestured to the seat across from him, a small table between the two, and waited for Adrien to take a seat. When they had taken off and the door to the flight deck and curtain dividing the front and back of the cabin were closed, Gabriel swiveled in his chair and faced Adrien.

“I am sorry,” he began.

This took Adrien by surprise. The last time he had heard his father direct those words towards him had been the day his mother had disappeared.

“We will not be able to return home tonight,” he continued.

“We won’t.” It wasn’t a question, verifying the man’s statement, but a show of understanding.

“I have arranged for us to stay at the guest house tonight. And in the morning…” He trailed off.

“Father, what’s going on?” Adrien asked, whispering as if it were a secret. Maybe it was for all he knew.

“There was an incident, like I said.”

“I know,” Adrien replied. He didn’t mean for it to come across as snippy, but his father hadn't said much else.

Gabriel looked up at Adrien like he was about to scold him, but the intensity behind his eyes died out before he could say a word.

“Fine,” Gabriel finally replied.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a tablet, identical to Nathalie’s, and set it down on the table between them, facing the device towards Adrien.

With a few taps and flicks of his finger, an article from an Italian news site popped up. A button in the top right showed it had bene translated into French. Adrien pulled the tablet closer to him and tucked his thumb underneath the top of it to angle the screen towards his face.

_String of Robberies in France connected to AIO Group  
Approximately 23 million in stolen goods_

_July 26_

“We—”

Gabriel held up his hand silencing his son, before glancing down at the tablet once more and swiping to the left. A new headline from the same Italian news source scrolled across.

_AIO Group Targets European Designers  
Alonzo T. L. latest victim in string of robberies_

Adrien looked below the byline this time and noted the date. Three days ago.

“Like I said, there was an incident.”

Gabriel reached out to take the tablet from the table and was met by Adrien’s hand. It rested against the cuff of Gabriel’s suit jacket.

“it’s going to be okay,” Adrien said.

He searched his father’s eyes for a reaction, but his countenance remained apathetic. After a moment, Gabriel pulled his hand back and smoothed the cuff back into place.

He replied, “it’s not okay. It is, unfortunately, very, very, not okay.” The way he hung onto the final word, made it seem as if it deserved its own sentence.

That night at the guest house, Adrien changed in the pajama set he’d been planning on wearing for the final night in Berlin. Unlike his own house, the guest house was tall and narrow. The front entrance opened up into the 2nd floor foyer where a spiraling staircase took up the whole left side. Adrien’s room for the night was located on the 3rd floor and his father’s directly above his. He could hear the man pacing back and forth until one o’clock in the morning.

Too nervous to test the thickness of the walls, Adrien refrained from talking to Plagg until he’d walked down the hall to the back of the house where a small half bathroom looked down upon a courtyard below. Adrien took a seat on the folding chair next to the sink and closed the door behind him.

“Plagg,” he whispered.

The kwami didn’t need to be asked twice. As soon as he heard his name, he flew from the pocket of Adrien’s pajama top and settled on the corner of the sink.

“Phew, I thought I’d go hungry for a second there,” he said, holding a small hand to his head.

Adrien frowned.

“I’m sorry, but this is all I have right now.” He handed the kwami half of the biscotti he’d taken from the hotel.

Plagg soured at the crunchy biscuit, but accepted it, none the less.

“Where’s my camembert?” he whined between bites.

“At home,” Adrien shushed, finger to his lips.

“And we’re… Where are we exactly?”

“Did you not hear anything that’s been going on since the banquet?” Adrien asked.

Plagg shook his head as he filled his cheeks with the remainder of the biscuit.

“Sleeping,” he replied, garbled.

“Figures,” Adrien muttered.

“So where are we again?” Plagg asked. “And do you have more food?”

“We’re at our guest house,” he replied. “Something has happened.”

“Miraculous something or just something?” Plagg crossed his arms in front of him.

“I guess, just something. Except, I’m not really sure what.”

Adrien pulled his phone out from his pocket and opened a new search tab. His fingers hovered over the screen for a minute, before typing out _Paris robbery._ A whole slew of results poured out, but none were recent enough to have been _the incident._

He back spaced his previous search and typed _AIO Group_ instead. Most of the results were in Italian; a couple were in French. Adrien clicked to the most recent headline he understood, but it was about an art theft from a local millionaire’s mansion. They didn’t own any expensive art, did they?

Disappointed, Adrien exited out of the app and back to the home screen on his phone. He began scrolling through the feeds of every social media account he owned, but all were frivolous: pictures from summer holidays, posts ranting about sold out video games, and memes. He was about to stand up to go back to his room when he received an incoming call from Marinette.

_Since when did she text him at 1:45 am, never mind call?_

“Hello?” he answered.

“Oh my god, Adrien.”

Her voice on the other end sounded winded, but relieved.

“Yeah?” He wondered what she was doing up so late.

“I really needed to hear your voice,” she said.

_She did?_

“My voice?” Adrien’s heart warmed.

In all his travels and summers away, he didn’t realize anyone, bar Nino, thought enough about him to call.

_But wait, it was past midnight. What was going on?_

“Yes. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

_Okay?_ Adrien’s heart started to pound. He felt the pulse in his hand push outwards against the side of his phone.

“I know you are in Berlin this week—”

“You knew?”

“—but my anxiety got to me and I thought, huh, maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s here and so I called. I’m sorry. It’s late. I’m sorry. I can hang up now.”

“Wait!” he stammered. “What’s happened?”

A pregnant pause stretched out with only the sound of Marinette’s breathing reaching through.

“When I was out tonight on my pa—pastry run tonight—”

_Pastry?_

“—I saw the fire.”

“The fire!”

Adrien jumped out of the chair, scaring Plagg, before straightening the hand towel he’d knocked off the back and going to the window on the far side of the bathroom. He placed his elbows against the windowsill and lifted the curtain with one hand to look out. While the 3rd floor was higher than the building across from him, he was too far to see any bit of his house from there.

“Oh my god,” Marinette said for the second time that night. “You don't know. You…” She trailed off like she had run out of breath.

“When I was out tonight, on my pastry run of course, I saw that your house was on fire.”

“Was it also being robbed?”

“No,” Marinette replied, confused. “Well, I don’t think so. There were six fire trucks outside and the front side of the building was singed black.”

“What else?” Adrien persisted.

“I—I don’t know. I was about to go in—”

“Into the fire!”

Once more Adrien stepped back, scaring Plagg with his _above a whisper_ voice, before leaning back towards the window.

“I mean—I meant—I was about to go in for a closer look when I heard a man say the house was unoccupied.”

“Oh.” Adrien but down on his lip.

“Since you were away, I figured they were correct in their assumption and moved on.”

“With your late-night pastry run.”

“Yeah… That.”

Despite being caught up in his own night from hell, Adrien let out a small laugh.

“What?” Marinette asked, self-conscious.

“Nothing, nothing.” Adrien shook his head with a smile.

He didn’t know what else to say but didn’t want to end the call. Nothing felt real in that moment—nothing except the sound of Marinette breathing on the other end of the line.

“Marinette?” Adrien called out after her breathing had slowed to an inaudible pace.

“Yes? I’m still here.”

“I don’t know why my dad didn’t tell me about the fire.”

It came out like a statement, but the inflection in his voice made it sound like a question.

Marinette answered, “maybe he was trying to protect you from the truth.”

“Wouldn't I have found out eventually?”

“Yeah, but what’s the sense in worrying about it all night when you can’t do anything?”

He supposed she had a point. Adrien wanted to bring up the AIO Group articles and the insinuation that they’d been robbed, but he’d already held her on the line for fifteen minutes.

“I suppose you’re right,” he finally replied. “Protecting me is what he does best, even when it’s uncalled for.”

“You’re his only son. I’m sure his intentions are in the right place.”

Another pause.

“I should get going, try and get some sleep,” Adrien said. “Thank you for calling, by the way.”

“Ye—yeah,” Marinette said, “no problem.”

After another awkward pause, Adrien said goodbye, then ended the call.

“Who was that?” Plagg asked from the counter.

“Were you not listening again?” Adrien questioned incredulously.

Plagg shook his head no.

“Look, I’m hungry,” he supplied. “It’s hard to listen when I’m hungry.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

“So?”

Adrien stuck his tongue out at Plagg and mocked his question.

“In case you’re actually listening this time, that was Marinette.”

Plagg raised his hand to his chin and hummed.

“Well that was nice of her to call.”

Adrien smiled in agreement. It really was nice of her to call. In the four years they’d known each other, they’d rarely had a long conversation alone.

Adrien looked down at his kwami whose eyes were drooping again.

“Come on,” he beckoned. “I think I might have more snacks in my suitcase.”

* * *

Marinette had not been lying when she’d informed Adrien the night before on the state of his house. Two firemen led the way as he and his father approached the front entrance. It was clear the fire had originated on the south facing side of the house as Adrien’s bedroom, the dining room, and guest room were untouched. The rest, however, looked as if a fire breathing akuma had scorched the place.

“The structure is too unstable to enter from the front,” one of the men said to Gabriel.

Gabriel nodded and followed the men around the side of the house. As they passed underneath the tall windows of Adrien’s room—the ones he’d sneak out of at night to avoid his father—Adrien noticed black singe marks on a pile of bricks that must have come off the side wall. The bricks were not completely burned, rather they had marks which ran in lines across its surface.

The group reached the far side of the garden where a statue of his mother stood, untouched, and headed for the stairs.

“Stay here while we check inside,” the men instructed.

When it was just the two of them alone, Adrien turned to his father.

“I thought you said we were robbed.”

Gabriel looked back at his son, annoyed.

“I did.”

The question didn’t satisfy Adrien in the slightest.

“But the fire.”

Gabriel sighed deeply.

“Does this look like a fire to you?” he asked.

Adrien stepped back, getting a good look at house. For the first time since they arrived, he realized the glass dome on the roof was completely shattered as well as most of the windows. It was if a strong and powerful force had laid siege to the entire property.

“No, it does not look like a fire,” Adrien answered under his breath. “So why—”

Adrien didn’t get the chance to ask as the firemen chose that moment to return to them.

“Please, follow us and watch your step.”

Inside the dining room, the chairs were scattered about and the long table which normally stood in the center of the room had been pushed against the wall.

_Whoever had been through their house obviously had a hard time finding what they were looking for,_ Adrien thought.

At the end of the room, the doors to the foyer were open, one hanging at an angle off its hinges.

“What was it you needed to check for, M. Agreste? A book you said?” One of the firemen asked as they stood in the foyer.

Above them the morning sun casted an intricate array of shadows across the floor. Each jagged piece of roof still hanging on created a pattern across the marble floor.

“I didn’t. Please, I need to see my study.”

“Of course,” the man obliged.

Adrien padded along behind them until Gabriel turned about face and looked across at his son. Adrien was still a good six inches shorter than the older Agreste and though not by much, he felt as small as a child in that instance.

“It is dangerous over here. Please go and check your room for damages.”

“Yes, father,” Adrien replied with a nod of his head.

He tucked his loose bangs behind his ear and walked towards the front staircase.

Once upstairs, Adrien pushed the door to his room open and stepped inside. It looked untouched. He walked over to the bed he’d slept in not a week before and sat down. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a slice of smelly cheese and held it away from himself in disgust.

“I thought I smelled something delicious,” Plagg said, head popping out of Adrien’s breast-pocket.

Adrien looked down at the sleepy kwami.

“We aren’t staying long.”

“But the cheese,” Plagg cried out.

“Here.”

Adrien handed him the cheese from between his fingers. The atrocity had been soft and squishy and when Adrien raised his fingers to his nose, it nearly made him retch.

“I should probably grab the rest of that,” Adrien noted to himself.

“Or you could leave it here and let it develop,” Adrien heard from his pocket.

He shook his head with a smile, before reaching into his side drawer for the rest.

“More cheese?” Plagg called out.

“This is for later,” he told his kwami, before sliding the small wheel into his back pocket. The things he did for that creature.

Adrien walked back over to the door of his room where one of his basketballs had rolled. He picked it up and recalled the few times his friends had been able to visit. He felt a small grin etch its way across his face as he thumbed over the small bumps.

“I’m sorry, M. Agreste.” Adrien heard one of the firemen say from outside his room. “All we recovered from your atelier were these sculptures.”

“And the observatory?” Gabriel asked.

Silence.

“I see,” his father said, more distant than before.

Adrien set the basketball down beside his bed. Except for a few games which had been knocked from their shelf, everything around his room looked normal. The smell though—it tasted like burnt plastic.

After closing the door behind him, Adrien made his way down the front steps, making sure to avoid the small chunks that were missing from some of the stairs. Across the room, the wall separating his father’s office from the foyer stood barely intact with holes through its supports as if looking through the bones of a skeleton. The once regal black curtains that hung over the backwall’s windows were singed like burnt tresses. What stood out most was the painting of his mother—the Gustav Klimt styled painting bore holes in its canvas where the many geometric shapes of her dress once flowed.

“I trust you will be discreet,” his father said to the fireman in a hushed tone.

The man nodded. “Of course, M. Agreste.”

From the stairs, Adrien reached his hand out to grab the railing when a piece of chipped marble fell from its place. The chunk hit the ground and ricocheted down the remaining steps.

“I thought I told you its too dangerous down here.” Gabriel’s gaze shot over to where Adrien was standing and gritted his teeth. “Did you catalogue all the damages to your room?”

“There were no damages, father.”

“I see.” Gabriel’s frustration deflated as he made his way over to his son.

“I need to check on once last thing and then we will be leaving.”

“What about the house?” Adrien asked.

He hadn’t felt comfortable in it since his mother’s disappearance, yet the more he thought about leaving, the heavier his chest felt.

“That is a concern for another day.”

Adrien didn't understand why this was but saw no sense in arguing with his father in front of the firemen. The man his father had been speaking to earlier, led Adrien back through the dining room towards the side entrance. Before stepping out, Adrien turned and watched intently as his father lifted Nathalie’s desk from where it had been pushed over and opened a side drawer. Whatever he was expecting was not there, because after a long and draining sigh, he pulled the drawer from its tracks the hurled the wooden casing across the room.

“You okay?” the fireman asked, one gloved hand resting against the door frame.

Adrien just shook his head and pushed past. He had a feeling this last year at home would be the worst.


	2. The beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's present day and the heroic duo are in for a surprise from Master Fu.

“It was very nice of M. Agreste to recommend me so highly, don’t you think?” Marinette asked her kwami as she begun forcing loose pieces of sketch paper into her book bag.

“Relax, Marinette,” Tikki replied, watching the young woman from the desk across the room.

“I know, I know.” Marinette worried herself, opening old sketch pads, wondering if what she had on hand was good enough.

“You heard the boy from the admissions office; you’re basically in.”

Marinette skidded to a halt, slammed her old pad onto the chaise, and strode over to her desk. Tikki yelped as she narrowly avoided the crazed woman’s hands as they started opening the drawers.

“I’m not in until I’ve handed them the cheque and received my classes,” Marinette muttered, throwing a bag of pencils over her shoulder that had been worn down to the nub.

“Oh my god, the cheque!”

Tikki sighed.

“Where’s the cheque? I need the cheque!”

“Marinette,” Tikki crooned, “you haven’t written a cheque. They need to send over your acceptance papers first.”

“Oh.”

Tikki hovered over to where Marinette stood and ushered her to sit down.

“What if I don’t get in?” she said softly.

Tikki chuckled.

“You’re getting in,” Tikki consoled her. “Everyone that sees your designs knows how talented you are. That’s why Adrien’s father wrote that letter for you. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought you were just ordinary.”

Marinette sunk her face into her hands and scratched the skin along her hairline.

“I’m scared, Tikki,” Marinette admitted. “I thought I had everything figured out. I was going to be practical and then that—that wonderful boy—he ruined it.”

“I thought you finished your whole twelve-step program.”

Marinette rolled her eyes behind her hands.

“There was no twelve-step program. There was one step—just one. Try as you might, but you’ll never get over Adrien.”

Marinette nudged one of the pencils teetering on the edge of her desk and it spun, before falling to the floor. 

“Step one complete,” she finished in a huff.

“Come on.” Tikki pulled at Marinette’s arm, urging her to get up. “One thing at a time, okay?”

Marinette nodded. She stood back up, satisfied with the sketches she’d already compiled for her portfolio, and lifted the hatch of her room to head downstairs. If—no—when she got in, she’d need to have her portfolio polished for her first semester of classes.

Sabine was busying herself with last night’s dishes when Marinette stepped into the kitchen. Her mother set the dish towel down on the drying rack and walked over to talk to her daughter.

“I’m really proud of you,” Sabine said behind a huge grin. “I know your father would have loved for you to be involved in the family business, but I’m really glad you’re following your passion.”

Her mother nodded towards a sketch that was hanging precariously out of Marinette’s bag.

“Oh, thanks,” Marinette replied shyly, sliding it back in.

“Have you heard back yet?” Sabine asked.

Marinette shook her head no, but the content expression on her face never faltered.

“I was a little late getting all the admission documents sent in, but they said I should hear back by next Monday. Adrien’s father was quite sure they wouldn’t be able to say no—I’m hoping he’s right.”

Sabine nodded along, but her unwavering faith in her daughter was not what was holding her attention.

“How is he doing, by the way?”

“M. Agreste?” Marinette asked. “I don’t know; last I heard he was living abroad in Italy.

Sabine laughed.

“No sweetheart. How is Adrien doing?”

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, feeling the lump of tissue slide out from her teeth’s grasp as she pursed her lips.

“I think he is well,” she finally replied.

“You think?” Sabine eyed her daughter wearily.

“Yeah, mom. I haven’t seen him since we finished lycée.”

“Huh.” Sabine placed her hands on her hips, before turning back to the kitchen to finish drying off the plates. “I just thought you two were close.”

“We’re just friends, mom.”

“Friends can be close,” her mother replied.

_Were they close?_

Maybe they were at one point but planning for the future had a way of messing with the present.

“We just went our separate ways, mom. It happens.”

“I suppose,” Sabine hummed. “I always thought he would be different. The two of you were so cute.”

“Mom!” Marinette whined. “It wasn’t like that. I told you and dad that before.”

“Sure, sure.” Her mom waved her off with the dish towel.

“Can I go now?” Marinette asked, sulking.

“I was never stopping you before.”

In the foyer, Marinette grabbed her bike from against the wall and slid her helmet on that had been hanging by its straps on the handlebar. She wheeled its light blue frame out the door and held onto the seat to keep it up right as she locked the door behind her.

“I hope I have enough in here to laminate these,” she said, thumbing through the change in her purse.

She looked back at her parent’s bakery, thankful they’d let her work there this summer, before setting off, fingers crossed. She rode down past her old school and past families and couples out for lunch on that sunny Friday afternoon. The print shop on the next corner was just in view when she saw a blur of green pass by her face.

She braked hard, sliding onto the sidewalk, and looked around.

“What’s going on?” She heard Tikki ask from inside her bag.

Marinette swung her leg over the bike and walked towards the nearest alleyway, out of sight.

“I don’t know,” she replied, after leaning the bike against the side of the building.

A pair of empty dumpster bins lined the wall further down. Marinette walked over and hunched beside them, before letting Tikki float out of her bag.

“Do you think—” Marinette did not get the chance to finish her question when the green blur buzzed past her again.

This time is turned back at the other end of the alley and came to a stop in front of the two.

“Wayzz?” Marinette questioned with a mix of worry and confusion on her face.

“Long time, no see,” Tikki added.

“Hello Marinette. Hello Tikki,” the turtle Miraculous said.

Marinette’s brows furrowed.

“Is Master Fu okay?” she asked.

Wayzz blinked slowly and nodded his head.

“Master Fu is quite well, yes.”

“Is Chat okay?” Marinette probed.

A look of unease spread its way across Wayzz’s face.

“You do not know how your partner is doing?”

The collar of Marinette’s jacket felt suddenly tight around her neck.

“I just thought you knew something I didn’t.”

Wayzz nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, before turning to Tikki.

“I am actually here for you, Tikki.”

A small squeak escaped Tikki’s lips and her eyes grew wide.

“Me?”

Wayzz nodded once more.

“Master Fu requires you and your Miraculous holder’s presence at once,” he told them.

“But everyone is okay?” Marinette asked, still not convinced.

“For now, yes.”

_For now? What did that mean?_

“How soon is at once?” Marinette asked, cheekily.

She really didn’t have time for at once. She had a list of things to do before next week and the print shop would be closed over the weekend. If she was accepted—oh god she hoped she was—she’d need to complete the whole registration process in two days whereas most of the incoming students at ESMOD had two weeks.

“There is a car waiting for you.”

“Like right now?” Marinette specified. “Where?”

Wayzz rubbed his head.

“Not here, but at Master Fu’s old address.”

“Can I finish with my errands?” Marinette asked, weakly.

Wayzz sighed.

“Okay, I’m gonna take that as a no.”

A beat.

“Fine. Fine. Come on, Tikki.”

The kwami raced back into Marinette’s bag, as she prepared to stand

“What am I going to tell my mom?” she asked outwardly, as she rubbed her eyes.

“Please be at the meeting point by 2 pm,” Wayzz instructed. “Master Fu wants to start tonight.”

With that, the turtle kwami was gone, zooming away in the same blur of green as he had come.

_Start what?_ Marinette wondered.

Her mom had been quite skeptical when Marinette had informed her fifteen minutes before that she was going to spend the weekend with Alya.

“I need to take my mind of the application,” she had told her mom.

This was, indeed, not a lie, however the nervous feeling she had in her gut told her the whole facade was far from the truth.

She’d raced upstairs, throwing some things into a light pink duffle, before stopping to consider what the trip was even for.

_For Tikki,_ Wayzz had said before. _But what did Tikki need? Tikki was fine._

Did she need a change of clothes? Would she be gone a day, two days, more?

Marinette swung into her bathroom and grabbed her to-go toiletries just in case, as well as some sweatpants, two tank tops, and a change of clothes. After nicking her phone charger from the wall and stuffing some emergency tampons into the side pocket of the duffle, she straightened her slightly disheveled appearance, and marched downstairs.

Now, standing next to Master Fu’s old residence in her civilian clothes, Marinette felt even more unsure. Just as Wayzz had promised, a silver sedan pulled up along the curb at two o’clock sharp and the window to the passenger’s side door rolled down.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng?” the driver asked, hunched over to see out. He had an English accent, but his French was impeccable.

In the back of her mind she could hear her dad’s voice repeating something about strangers in cars. But this stranger knew her name and she’d been expecting him—well she’d been expecting the car at least. 

“Are you Mlle Dupain-Cheng?” he repeated. 

Marinette nodded shyly.

“Please,” he said. “The back door is open.”

She wasn’t sure if she should mention Master Fu or not. Who else would be showing up there at that time though? Without further deliberation, Marinette opened the side door and dropped down into the back seat. There was a pamphlet sitting on the seat beside her with the logo of a car-for-hire company she could not place.

“We need to go,” the driver said once more.

Marinette looked up and noticed she hadn't even shut the door behind her.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“No need,” the driver replied. “If we are lucky, we will make it to M. Wong’s by eight o’clock.”

* * *

It wasn’t like Nino to be late. In fact, Adrien supposed he was far less punctual than his best friend.

“Where would you like the couch?” a man maybe ten years his senior asked.

Adrien lowered his hand from his chin and pointed to the far side of the sitting room.

The man readjusted his grip, then carried it past Adrien towards the large bay window.

“I’ll just be outside,” Adrien said, though his words fell on deaf ears. “And you probably don’t care. Cool.”

In the hallway of his new apartment, Adrien pulled his cell phone out and called Nino. The young man answered on the 3rd ring,

“Hey man, what’s up?” Nino asked.

“I thought you were going to check out the new place today,” Adrien grumbled.

“Oh, shit,” Nino replied.

Adrien could hear shuffling and a woman’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, where are you?” Adrien asked.

It was noon on the Friday before classes started. Adrien couldn’t fathom where his best friend would be besides his family’s house or perhaps a bus.

“A friend’s place,” He answered.

That was suspicious.

“Is this a female friend?” Adrien teased.

“No. Just a friend from work.”

_A friend who had a very feminine voice._

“Listen, you finish up whatever you’re doing with this friend and meet me at the new apartment in say, an hour?”

“I can be there in twenty—” Nino grunted. “Actually, yep, an hour sounds good to me.”

Adrien grinned devilishly.

“Alrighty then, pal. Have fun.”

Adrien hung up the phone and placed it down on the center island in his new kitchen. Adrien couldn’t believe he only had to spend two more nights in his father’s guest house before he could say goodbye to the cold manor for good. It was too big for one guy and his bodyguard.

One of the movers had returned with a dolly full of boxes and unloaded them in the first bedroom. Adrien ambled over to the stack and flipped the cardboard flaps open on the top one. Books. He set the box down and opened the next. A mixture of manga and anime was stacked haphazardly inside. He set this one down too but made a mental note to return to it later.

The second to last box in the stack was filled with notebooks, homework from school he’d forgotten to toss out, and flyers from various concerts he’d attended earlier that year with his friends. Despite the creeping loneliness he’d felt while living at the guest house, it was a nice change not having his father lurking over him every chance he got. He’d still had to travel most places with his bodyguard, but nearly an adult, Adrien called most of the shots.

He lifted the box, ready to set it down on top of the one with books, when a loud bang from the front room spooked him. He fell, tossing the box and all its contents to the ground in the process.

After getting to his feet, Adrien poked his head out of the bedroom to find the source of the noise.

“Sorry about that,” one of the younger guys said, indicating he’d lowered the fridge too quickly.

Adrien mumbled something in the ballpark of “it’s fine,” then returned to the bedroom to pick up the box he’d dropped.

The papers inside had splashed out creating a cascade of different colors. He tried his best to gather them neatly when his fingers caught on a piece of plastic. He pulled out the wrapper and smiled to himself. He could recognize the lace the trim in the corner and pink bow anywhere. He raised the plastic to his nose, but the smell of passion fruit was long gone.

Admittedly a tad bit disappointed, Adrien placed the wrapper and papers back in the box, before flipping the cardboard flaps closed. Lying down on the area rug that took up the center of the room, Adrien closed his eyes and listened to the sounds outside his window. The street below was sprawling with people and pets, cars and trucks. Adrien welcomed the noise, even the frequent bangs of a shopfront door.

He must’ve dosed off, because as his brain began to register the sounds again, it also heard Nino.

“Nino?” Adrien sat up, legs sprawled out in front of him, and straightened his hair.

“Don’t break anything,” he heard his best friend joke with the movers out in the main room.

Adrien turned to see the young man walk through the door to his bedroom with a wave and a smile.

“Turns out I could be here in forty-five,” he said. 

He shot Adrien a pair of finger guns, before weaving through the room that was now occupied by at least ten stacks of boxes.

“They really just piled these around me, didn’t they?” Adrien said, getting to his feet.

“Looks like it.” Nino laughed.

“So, when are you bringing your stuff over?” Adrien asked.

Nino linked his fingers in front of himself and rocked forward against the balls of his feet.

“About that…” he trailed off.

“You’re not moving in with me,” Adrien said, deadpanned.

“No, not really.” Nino sucked in a gust of air. “I mean, I will be visiting so much it might seem like I live here.”

Adrien waved him off.

“It’s fine,” he told him. “Were you ever planning on actually moving in here?”

“I considered it,” Nino replied, “but the area is a bit too far from work and really, what kind of up and coming DJ would I be, living in Saint-Germain-des-Prés?”

Adrien conceded he had a point.

“Plus,” Nino added in, “You’ve got to stay focused on your studies. Can’t have me throwing parties at 1 am before an exam.”

Adrien grinned.

“As long as I’m invited to these 1 am parties, it’s fine with me.”

Nino gave him a discreet thumbs up, barely raising his arms, before he tapped one of the stacks of boxes.

“Do you need help with any of these?”

Adrien flopped back against the frame of his new bed and groaned.

“Yes, but I like you too much to ask for help.”

“Nah, I can help. Seriously.”

Nino grabbed a box and peeked inside.

“Video games?” he asked.

Adrien pointed to a long shelf against the back wall.

“Are we going for alphabetical order, chronological, worst to best, or by console type?”

“Obviously the latter two,” Adrien replied with a smile.

He walked over to grab the next box and joined Nino by the shelves. With every game they pulled out they seemed to recall a different nostalgic memory.

“Oh god, this was such a letdown.” Nino held the game up, cringing. “Bottom shelf?”

“Oh, one hundred percent bottom shelf,” Adrien agreed.

“Ultimate Mecha Strike 3?”

Adrien took the game from his friend and set it on the top shelf.

“Are you sure we’re gonna fill all of these?” Nino asked.

“You remember my old room, don’t you?” Adrien countered.

“Touché.”

By the time Nino had to leave for work, they’d managed to go through at least half of the boxes in Adrien’s new room. The movers had long since left for the day and the apartment was quiet.

“I wish I could stay here tonight,” Adrien admitted.

“Why can’t you?” Nino said.

“Besides not having any electricity yet or a change of clothes, I’d say missing a mattress for my bed is high up on the list.”

Nino peered around and shrugged.

“I honestly prefer the couch.”

Adrien shoved his friend playfully in the shoulder, before the two headed for the front door.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime you want, starting Monday,” Adrien said as he locked the door behind him.

As a testament to this statement, he held a key out for Nino, and dropped it in his hands.

“Really?”

Adrien nodded as he placed his own in his jeans pocket.

“I’d already made a couple extra when I thought you’d be living here. Plus, I trust you.”

For some reason, the words hit Nino differently.

“Thank you,” he said. 

They walked down the interior hall of the building and followed it towards the stairs. At the bottom, Adrien’s bodyguard stood idle.

“I’ll see you around,” Nino told Adrien, before jogging down ahead.

The car pulled up to the guest house fifteen minutes later and Adrien waved a quick goodbye to the driver and his bodyguard. Just a couple more days and he was free. The walkup to the second-floor entrance didn't feel so daunting anymore. As Adrien reached into his pocket for his main set of keys, he was alarmed to see a small set of eyes glaring back at him from the other side of the glass.

“Kaalki?” he asked aloud, before quickly unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Took you long enough,” the horse Miraculous said, pushing her white mane away from her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“And hello to you too.” Kaalki settled on the bannister to Adrien’s left and huffed.

“Kaalki,” Adrien warned, eyes narrowed on the horse Miraculous.

“Oh fine,” she replied.

After taking an inordinate amount of time to clear her throat, she continued, “Ahem. I have a message from Master Fu—”

“Oh my god, it’s Ladybug. Is she okay?”

Kaalki grimaced, causing Adrien to stand down until she’d recited the message.

“As I was saying, Master Fu has requested, nay, requires your presence at once.”

“At once?” Adrien leaned back against the front door, pensive.

_Was there an akuma sighting?_ He wondered.

There hadn’t been a single one in almost a year. It was unlikely, but what else would require his immediate presence?

_Wait._

“Kaalki,” Adrien began.

“Mm?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Far too long,” she replied.

“Kaalki,” Adrien said, sternly.

“Maybe twenty minutes.”

“I thought I was needed at once?” he replied, panicked.

“Oh, yes, I suppose.”

Kaalki barely had enough time to roll her eyes before Adrien stepped away from the door and called to his own kwami. 

“Plagg, claws out.”

In a burst of green, Adrien’s jeans, shirt, and jacket had been replaced by his always familiar, suit of black. It was amazing how despite having grown six inches taller and filled out quite considerably in other places, the suit he’d worn for over five years still fit perfectly.

“Where are we going Kaalki?” Chat asked, spinning his baton in place behind his back.

It felt nice to be suited up again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that same rush of adrenaline.

“London,” Kaalki replied. “I’ll make sure you get where you need to go.”

She handed him the glasses he’d need and with a wave of her hoof she signaled to him she was ready.

“Plagg, Kaalki, unify.”

Chat brought his hands together as both Miraculous transformed his Chat Noir suit into an amalgamation of the two. Over his black mask a dark pair of shades hid his green eyes and a brown horseshoe spanned the width of his back. His regular black shoes even sprouted their own set of wings.

Chat arched his back and admired the suit.

“Not bad,” he said, smirking.

It really was a shame no one was there to admire it.

“All right,” he said, less sure of himself. “I hope you know where you’re going.”

With his arm raised above his head, a green ring of energy sparked to life. The tendrils which flickered on the edges were like molten plasma. Chat lowered that same arm and the energy ring opened to reveal an alleyway. The strong scent of petrichor overwhelmed his senses. Feeling as though he had no other choice, Chat approached the glowing ring and stepped across the boundary.

“Allons-y.”


End file.
